


California Sand

by concavepatterns



Series: 7 Days [2]
Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Camping, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship/Love, M/M, Polyamory, Road Trips, Slice of Life, Smut, Van Life, plot? we don't know her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26173729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concavepatterns/pseuds/concavepatterns
Summary: "Maybe we could make this a regular thing? Like take a week every year and escape the city for a while. Go off the grid. Find some little cabin in the woods and just...be. Together. Eat food and write songs and do whatever we want."God, Rhett can't think about that too hard or else he just might cry."Sounds like heaven," he admits. "I'm gonna make you the best campfire beans."---The one where they live the #vanlife
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Series: 7 Days [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900708
Comments: 128
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Can I write an entire sequel that contains no actual plot? Apparently so.  
> Rating will bump up to an E around chapter 4 :)

He’s sitting slouched at his desk - in the middle of scrolling through Airbnb listings on his work computer - when a chin settles itself directly on the top of Rhett’s head. 

A pair of arms slide over his shoulders a moment later, curving to wrap around the upper half of his chest in a loose, casual hug, and Rhett leans back into the touch, humming when the change in positions provides a much needed stretch for the tensed-up muscles in his back.

“Whatcha doin?” the voice above him asks, chin digging in with each spoken word, and it’s kind of uncomfortable but Rhett likes feeling the warm vibration of that voice against his back. Smelling the familiar soap and spice scent of the body draped over him. Knowing he’s totally encompassed by Link; a brief chance to feel small in a way that’s extraordinarily rare when you’re 6’7”.

“Finding us a place to stay,” he answers, raising one hand up to rub a thumb briefly over the back of Link’s hand before returning it to the computer’s mouse as he scrolls some more. “On a scale of one to ten, how important is indoor plumbing?”

“If we’re gonna be gone for a week, there’s gotta be an outhouse at least,” Link reasons. “I’m not crappin’ in the woods the whole time.”

Grinning, Rhett tries to twist his head under the weight of Link’s chin so he can look up at him. “Bold of you to assume you’ll take a crap at all.”

Link laughs, too loud for how close his mouth is to Rhett’s ears. “That’s...a pretty valid point,” he concedes. “I’m just glad we aren’t touring anymore - I dunno if my bowels could take it, man.”

“Oh gosh.” With a chuckle, Rhett grimaces and swivels around in his chair, dislodging the Link-blanket draped over his shoulders. The weight is instantly missed, but at least this way Rhett can see his face, and it’s a good face too; all content and smiley, arms loose at his sides as he leans all of his weight onto one leg, looking Rhett up and down.

“What?” Rhett asks, resisting the urge to grin as Link proceeds to just stand there, watching him and smiling like a dork.

“What if...” Link rocks back and forth on his feet, radiating giddy energy like a kid eager to spill a secret, “we _didn’t_ rent a cabin?”

“What?” Rhett frowns, rubbing one hand over his beard. “I thought we agreed we didn’t want a regular house.”

“We did,” Link confirms, smile expanding out into a full-fledged grin now. “I’m not talkin’ about a house.”

The wheels in Rhett’s head spin, trying to make sense of the vague hints Link’s started dropping. It’s not unusual for Link’s train of thought to hop across eight different tracks sometimes, but after this many years together Rhett’s become a bit of an expert at piecing Link’s illogical thought process into something coherent.

After a few moments of consideration, he tips his head to the side and guesses, “Hashtag van life?”

He must have hit the nail on the head because if Link was giddy before, the guy’s practically vibrating with enthusiasm now.

“Hashtag van life, baby!” Link exclaims happily, complete with a weird little hip-shimmying dance that gets Rhett shaking his head with a smile, amused and way too fond of this idiot he’s decided to attach himself to for life.

“Dork,” he says, not bothering to hide the affection in his tone.

“I think you mean _genius_.” Link grins at him, doing some kind of ridiculous electric slide-like move that brings his one-man dance party closer to Rhett. “Just wait, this is gonna be the best road trip you’ve ever been on, man.”

Once Link’s shimmying has brought him close enough, Rhett reaches both arms out, snagging him by the front of his t-shirt and reeling him in close until Link’s standing tall over him, bracketed by Rhett’s wide-spread knees.

Tilting his head back, Rhett looks up at him dubiously. “I know I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: I’m a big man. Are you sure we can find a van I’ll be able to sleep in?”

Resting one hand on the top of Rhett’s shoulder, Link uses the other to push his fingers through the front of Rhett’s hair, raking some of the loose curls off his forehead. It’s intimate and comforting, and Rhett has to struggle not to close his eyes and start rumbling like a big, pleased cat. Link makes enough lion jokes about his hair these days as it is.

“Leave that part to me.” Link smiles down at him. “I’m in charge of accommodations, if you wanna plan our route?”

Rhett melts back into his chair when the fingers in his hair start to curl, scratching lightly at his scalp. “We still wanna do Mendocino?” he asks, half distracted from the touch as he releases his grip on the front of Link’s shirt and plants both hands on Link’s waist instead, fingertips creeping up underneath the edge of his graphic tee.

Link’s breath hitches, a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it catch in his throat when the pads of Rhett’s fingers make contact with warm, bare skin. The hand in Rhett’s hair tightens ever so slightly in a silent warning, making Rhett grin.

“As a final destination, yeah,” Link answers after a second, the blue of his eyes deepening as he blinks down at Rhett, “but I thought we could make some other stops along the way. Really draw it out so it takes a couple ‘a days to get there.”

Rhett hums in agreement. After a busy start to the summer, planning this trip has been long overdue. They’ve been talking about it for ages, almost waxing poetic about a chance to finally get out of the city and go off the grid, and with most of the kids occupied with various summer camps or sleepovers, it’s a good opportunity to give their wives a much needed holiday at the same time.

Sure, they’ve done this kind of thing before. Escaping the city together when they were writing Buddy System, or spending countless weekends in tents under the stars, but since their relationship has shifted - hugs and I-love-you’s and meaningful glances no longer just platonic - they’ve never had a chance to get away, just the two of them.

Until now. 

And after a particularly crazy couple of weeks packed full of meetings and family obligations and getting all the prep work done for their summer hiatus, Rhett would be lying if he said he wasn’t dying to have Link all to himself for a while.

He wouldn’t call himself a _celebrity_ by any means, but living in the bubble of Los Angeles, it always feels like a lens is focused on you in one sense or another. After this many years on the internet, he and Link are usually stopped by a handful of fans anywhere they go, but getting out of the L.A. core adds an extra little boost of anonymity, even if it’s just in his own head. It’s probably the closest Rhett’ll ever get to a multi-verse experience, he figures. Out there, road-tripping up the coastline, he can pretend they’ve always been this way. It’s a chance to see what life is like for the Rhett and Link who got their heads out of their asses and confessed their feelings to each other back in college, or hell, maybe even in high school. They can hold hands. Kiss without constantly looking over their shoulders. Indulge far more than they would under normal circumstances.

He’s excited for it, and judging from the way Link’s looking down at him, fingers still carding through the top of Rhett’s hair and one of those soft, crooked little smiles pulling at the edge of his mouth, he is too.

“Book the van,” Rhett confirms only after he’s swallowed twice, trying to clear the growing lump of happiness and gratitude from his throat. “Let’s show those Instagram losers how it’s really done.”

Link answers with a bubbling laugh, and the way he guides Rhett’s head back and kisses him says everything he needs to say without words.

* * *

The morning of their road trip, Link pulls up outside of Rhett’s house in their newly rented van, jumps out of the driver’s seat, and immediately relinquishes control of the wheel to Rhett, tossing the keys at him quick enough that they smack Rhett in the chest before he can fully catch them.

“It makes me nervous, tryna maneuver this thing around in the city,” Link explains, pushing his glasses up with one hand as they stand at the base of Rhett’s driveway, surveying the outside of the vehicle. “I’ll drive once we’re out on the open road.”

“You drove an RV at least twice this size to the Grand Canyon,” Rhett points out, but he still shoves the key ring into his pocket without complaint. Lord knows they’ve had enough close calls with Link just driving his Audi around town.

“You got all your stuff?” Link asks, blatantly ignoring Rhett’s last comment, probably because he can’t think up a good enough argument against it.

The thought of that makes Rhett want to smirk, and he would gloat over successfully getting in the last word, only Link chooses that moment to belatedly give him a proper greeting, sliding into Rhett’s space for a quick hug that’s followed by a full kiss on the mouth and lowly murmured, “Hi, by the way,” and after that, Rhett’s brain is pretty much useless.

“Yeah. Hi. All set.” He fumbles through his reply a few beats too late, still busy looking down at Link’s mouth.

Catching him in the act, Link laughs and takes a step back, putting some distance between them again.

“Plenty of time for that later,” he says, like he knows exactly what Rhett’s thinking, which...fair enough. Astronauts in space can probably tell what Rhett’s thinking right now, never mind his best friend of thirty-plus years who knows Rhett’s body language inside and out.

Rubbing his too-warm palms on the thighs of his jeans, Rhett follows Link around to the back of the van, watching as he pops the double doors open and clambers up inside, speaking to Rhett over his shoulder, “Pass me your bags, I’ll stow ‘em away back here.”

Rhett retrieves his gym bag full of clothes and the couple of grocery bags’ worth of food they’ll be keeping on board for the week. It’s nothing fancy, mainly staples like coffee and cereal and crackers, non-perishables they can rummage through for quick breakfasts or afternoon snacks when hunger strikes but they don’t want to hit up a restaurant. 

He’d be fine with eating out for every meal – after all, Rhett’s never met a new menu item he didn’t want to try - but the practical, cost-conscious side of Link couldn’t fathom living on the road for a week with no groceries, so they’d compromised. 

Rhett has to admit though, as he pokes his head into the back of the van and passes the bags off to Link, Link did a damn good job of choosing what’ll be their home away from home for the next week. The interior of the van is cute, tidy and arranged as spaciously as possible; every nook and cranny of available space utilized to its fullest capacity.

Directly behind the driver’s seat there’s a small counter not more than three feet long, housing a sink and a hot plate, with a few storage cabinets extending both overhead and below. Rhett suspects that one of the lower ones is probably hiding a mini fridge.

Their bed is next, the foot of it pressed up against the far side of the sink where the countertop ends, and the true test will come later that night when Rhett attempts to stretch his tall frame out across the mattress, but for now it looks decent enough. It’s not twin-sized, at least.

“This is great, man,” he approves, waiting for Link to hop back out of the van before giving him a light, good-natured punch in the shoulder. “Ya done good, Neal.”

“Told you I would.” Link is quick to downplay the praise, but his mouth’s doing that thing where it’s fighting the desire to grin, wavering in between a smile and a frown. “So, whataya think? We ready to hit the road?”

Rhett looks at him. Takes in the ruffled black-and-silver sweep of his hair. The clear, familiar blue of his eyes. The wide span of his shoulders beneath the slim white sleeves of his t-shirt as he stands with his hands on his hips, looking all at once like the epitome of a Dad, but somehow shockingly young at the same time, still so much like the bright-eyed teenage Link of Rhett’s memories.

He’s about to live out of a van with this man for the next seven days. Just the two of them. Laughing, exploring, sleeping, creating, relaxing. _Together_ , just like always, but somehow even better now.

“Been ready for weeks. Maybe months,” Rhett admits, feeling a little overwhelmed and a whole lot lucky over the fact that they’re finally doing this.

There must be something in his tone that gives away the emotions bubbling underneath, because Link smiles at him, fond and amused and excited all at once, then tilts his head towards their waiting van.

“Then let’s roll, buddyroll.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is now fully written, so new chapters will be coming every Wednesday and Saturday :)

“Okay, so,” Link says once they’re well on their way, cruising down the I-5 and destined for Big Sur as their first overnight stop on this leg of the trip. “Ground rules for hashtag van life.”

Shaking his head, Rhett chuckles, right hand resting on the wheel while his left arm’s relaxed, propped up easily on the inside of the door. “Of course you’ve got vacation rules. I’m surprised you didn’t send them to me a week in advance and demand a sworn statement that I’ll follow ‘em.”

“ _Wow_ , it’s been...” Link glances down to check his watch, “an hour and a half, and the harassment’s already begun.” He turns his head towards Rhett, eyes unreadable behind his dark prescription sunglasses, but Rhett can see that the side of his mouth is quirked up with amusement. “Where’s the love, man?”

It’s spoken more teasingly than anything else – this kind of banter’s always been the basis for at least a solid half of their relationship, Rhett knows - but something about the question still strikes him in a vaguely uncomfortable way.

This trip is _theirs_ \- as indulgent and silly and sentimental as they want it to be - and Rhett’s gonna make damn sure that Link enjoys every minute of it. So he acknowledges that little tug of discomfort. Lets himself feel the need to soften the edges of his previous words. To get a little tender in a way that’s rare for him, but that Link deserves for always putting up with his bullshit. 

And besides, right now it’s just Link and the road ahead; if Rhett can’t get honest here, where can he?

Shifting his left hand to grasp the steering wheel, Rhett lets his right arm fall to the console between them, palm facing upwards invitingly. “You know it’s here, man,” he says, tone a little bit softer, and he’s glad for the task of having to keep his eyes on the road ‘cause it’s much easier to say this kind of stuff when there’s no direct eye contact involved.

At that, Link goes silent, but it isn’t long until Rhett feels fingers slip into place between his.

“Yeah, I do,” Link finally replies, sounding just as quiet and heartfelt as Rhett had. And when Rhett finally sneaks a quick look at Link’s face, the smile he finds there is a small, private kind of thing. Not meant for anyone but Link himself.

Something warm spreads through Rhett’s chest when he sees it, and every single minute of therapy’s been worth it, he thinks, to be the one responsible for putting that smile on Link’s face.

They drive like that for another five minutes, hands clasped and the cab of the van quiet, until Link clears his throat to say, “I was serious about the ground rules. Can I tell you them now?”

There’s something about the genuine earnestness of the words that strikes Rhett in just the right way, his reaction starting out as an amused sort of snort and then evolving into full-fledged laughter until he’s letting out big, loud HA-HA-HA’s that inevitably set Link off like a chain reaction of dumb humor.

And when Link laughs like that, sitting side by side in the front of the van with him, it’s like ten years disappear in the blink of an eye and they’re in their early thirties again, driving cross-country with a video camera, trying to start something big in California.

The nostalgia is like a punch to the gut and a warm, welcomed hug all at once.

Slowly catching his breath while a few stray trails of laughter continue to escape, Rhett glances over at Link’s happy, grinning profile, squeezing his hand before returning his gaze to the sun-washed road ahead of them.

“Yeah,” he says, “tell me all about ‘em.”

* * *

The rules are like this:

No internet or social media unless they’re checking in with their families or searching for directions, rest stops, or other necessities.

The driver gets to choose the music, but the passenger is allowed a total of three vetoes that can be used at any time over the course of the trip.

Any garbage they accumulate has to be disposed of pre-bedtime so it doesn’t stink up the van.

And:

“Wipe your dang feet before you get into the bed. I don’t wanna be sleepin’ on sandy sheets,” Link says as he finishes counting off each point on his fingers.

“Wait a minute, just how often do you think I’m gonna be barefoot?” Rhett asks, amused as he lets his foot ease off the gas pedal, slowing down so he can take the exit for Paso Robles. It’s nearing lunchtime anyway, and they could both use a chance to stretch their legs and hit up a bathroom at this point.

“It’s part of the lifestyle, man!” Link says, doing a quick check of his side mirror and nodding an all-clear to Rhett when Rhett starts to merge over one lane. “Communing with nature and all that. It’s, like, the very _essence_ of hashtag van life. And I’m all for it, just not when it comes to my sleeping arrangements.”

Rhett puts on a frown, stating seriously, “And here I thought we were gonna be living like Disney princesses. Sleeping in fields of flowers, sharing the van with mice and blue birds so they can help us get dressed in the morning. Everything I thought I knew is a lie.”

Link snorts, leaning back in the passenger seat. “Trust me, you’ll get over it,” he says dryly. “And besides - the amount of sex I plan on havin’ during this trip? It’s best no innocent little forest creatures see any ’a that.”

Huh.

Well then.

Finding it unusually difficult to concentrate on driving all of a sudden, Rhett swallows, reaching to adjust the knob for the air conditioning because when did it get so warm in here?

Link watches him with a wide, self-satisfied smirk, and some of that smugness is probably deserved, Rhett figures, because it _does_ take a lot to render him speechless, even if it’s only momentary.

“So if you’ve got any complaints,” Link continues, still riding the high of having successfully broken Rhett’s brain, “now’s the time to lodge ‘em.” He pauses for a second, brow furrowing as he thinks out loud, “Is it lodge? You lodge a complaint? Or log? Or am I doin’ that thing again where I completely repurpose a word without even realizing it? Lodge? _Lodge._ Log?”

As entertaining as it is to listen to Link ramble, Rhett takes pity on him, chucking as he turns the wheel and they slowly round the curve of their exit ramp. “It’s lodge,” he confirms, “and trust me, that’s the last thing I’m gonna complain about, brother.”

* * *

Of course they can’t visit a city that’s built on wineries without sampling at least some of the local fare, so lunch in Paso Robles includes a patio table under the sun, platefuls of grilled chicken and veggies, and some booze. Link only has one glass to Rhett’s two, but they both still decide it’s a good idea to let any effects wear off before hitting the road again, so after leaving the restaurant they spend an hour or two just wandering, winding their way through the lush greenery of a well-kept park before taking in all the quaint little storefronts that line the main street downtown.

It’s one of those storefronts in particular that catches Rhett’s attention.

Through the large glass pane of the front window, there’s an artful looking display shelf - a bunch of wooden rectangles and cubes all hooked together like puzzle pieces - housing a mismatched collection of geodes, books, and small potted plants.

“Hey,” Rhett says impulsively, reaching for Link’s elbow to stop him, “we should go in here.”

Link takes one look at the front of the store and groans, letting his head fall back so he can direct his displeasure up at the cloudless blue sky. “You don’t need any rocks. Or any _books_ about rocks,” he states in that exasperated kind of tone he usually reserves for one of his kids whenever they start making ‘Dad can I have it?’ puppy-dog eyes at him.

“They’re not just _rocks_ ,” Rhett says, mildly offended. “It’s geology, man! The very foundation of our planet!”

Link’s mouth curves into a skeptical frown and they stare at each other, having a wordless face-off for approximately three seconds before Link caves and lets out a defeated sigh.

“Fine,” he relents, sounding more like he’s agreeing to a root canal than browsing one quirky little gift shop. “You wanna go in, we’ll go in.”

“Ten minutes,” Rhett promises, not bothering to hide his pleased grin as he steps up to the front door and pulls it open, gesturing for Link to go in first. “C’mon, I’ll buy you something pretty.”

“Shut up.” Link rolls his eyes, but there’s a small, close-to-blushing smile on his face when Rhett lays a hand on the small of his back, ushering him inside.

The interior is all warm wood tones and comfortably dimmed lighting, looking like one part book store and one part plant shop with a healthy sprinkle of gifts and knick-knacks thrown in. There’s a general new-agey, metaphysical feel to the whole space – half the books having titles like _Practical Herbal Healing_ or _Sequoia Sempervirens: a Field Guide_ \- and Rhett is instantly fascinated.

Link, immediately recognizing the look on Rhett’s face, huffs out a laugh and instructs, “Go. Explore. Frolic. I’ll find you later.”

Equal parts giddy and grateful, Rhett swoops in to press a quick kiss to the corner of Link’s mouth before taking off for the nearest aisle, content to wander and lose himself in the depths of the store.

He goes through each aisle thoughtfully, looking at books, sun catchers, incense, and ‘rocks’ as Link would put it, until he eventually comes to a stop in front of a shelf full of hard-covered planners and journals.

They have a pretty big variety of dream journals, Rhett’s surprised to find, so he instinctively reaches for one, flipping through the pages curiously. He knows that Link tends to record most of his dreams onto his phone like Rhett does, but there’s just something so _nice_ about having a crisp, blank sheet of paper ready at your fingertips. It’s almost like a physical embodiment of that feeling of excitement that comes with new ideas, Rhett thinks. All creative potential and boundless possibilities. So with that in mind he grabs one for himself in a deep forest green before picking out a second - bound in a rich navy blue colour - for Link.

Content with his selections, he starts wandering again but with a purpose this time; poking his head down each narrow aisle, on the lookout for a certain head full of salt-and-pepper hair.

After a minute or two, he finds Link up near the front corner of the shop, standing in front of a row of tiny potted cacti.

“Hey man,” Rhett says, coming close enough to Link’s side that their arms brush companionably.

“Hey.” Link briefly leans into the touch before he turns around and flicks his eyes up and down Rhett’s body, eyebrows raising when he sees that Rhett’s not carrying any potential purchases aside from the two journals. “Wait, don’t tell me – there’s a whole trailer full ‘a rocks waiting outside that we’ll have to hitch to the back of the van?”

“Ha ha,” Rhett says dryly. “If we’re getting a trailer, I’m making you ride in it.”

He’s all talk, no follow-through, and judging from the way Link bites at his lower lip as he tries to contain a smile, shaking his head in that ‘what am I gonna do with you?’ kind of way, he knows it.

“Stop it,” Rhett tells him, busy fighting a grin of his own even though Link hasn’t even said a word yet. He knows that glint in Link’s eyes, and where this kind of banter used to be just two friends messin’ around, these days it’s all too easy for it to slip into outright flirting.

And while that typically wouldn’t be a problem, Rhett’s already feeling a little warm under the collar – both from their lunchtime drinks and Link’s earlier declaration in the van - and he suspects it’d be frowned upon for him to shove Link up against one of those shelves and wipe that look off his face. With his mouth. On Link’s mouth.

Swallowing, he pushes a hand through his hair and redirects his attention, nodding towards the group of miniature terra cotta pots laid out in front of them. “You wanna get one?”

“Nah.” Link dismisses the idea, but his eyes have automatically drifted back to the mini cacti, and after what looks like a small internal debate, a few seconds later he asks, “Should we? It could be like our little travel buddy.”

“It’s your call,” Rhett tells him, “but obviously my answer’s gonna be yes.”

“ _Obviously_ ,” Link echoes in what Rhett assumes is a terrible imitation of his own voice, angling his elbow out to jab Rhett in the stomach.

“ _Obviously_ ,” Rhett repeats in an exaggerated voice that’s reminiscent of their recurring ‘it’s so hot’ joke.

It makes Link laugh, and Rhett’s restraint is tested yet again when he’s faced with the full force of that wide, bright-eyed smile. Damn.

With renewed enthusiasm, Link takes a step forward and crouches down until he’s at eye level with the row of pots, taking the time to really consider each one in a way that’s so purely _Link_ , Rhett can only stand there and watch him like the besotted fool he is.

“Alright, we’re getting this one,” Link finally decides, selecting a small prickly pear cactus and cradling the pot between both palms. He straightens back up and turns to face Rhett, adding, “And we’re gonna name him Pokey.”

“Pokey,” Rhett says, nodding seriously as he addresses the little pot, “welcome to our road trip, but before you come with us, you should know that your papa Link is apparently a sex fiend and wants to get it on _a lot_ during this trip, so you might be spending a lot of time in a cupboard to protect your delicate little cactus sensibilities.”

“Hey!” Link sputters, face flushing. “What the crap? I never – don’t say – you jerk.”

Rhett laughs, reaching out to squeeze Link’s shoulder before using the touch to gently direct him over towards the cash. “C’mon, let’s check out and hit the road.”


	3. Chapter 3

Big Sur State Park is a perfect oasis of secluded wilderness with wide open skies, tree-dense hiking paths and views that could impress even the most jaded of travelers.

Since they’re both campers at heart, immediately after pulling through the front gates a look passes between them and it barely requires any discussion before they’re agreeing to park there for two nights instead of the originally planned upon one.

“Bet you’re glad we brought our own food now, huh?” Link teases Rhett once they’re seated around their campfire that evening, relaxing after an easy dinner of hot dogs and some fresh corn on the cob they’d picked up from a roadside farm stand.

Rhett chuckles and laces his fingers over his stomach, leaning back to gaze up at the stars that’re finally starting to peek out now that the hour’s growing late. “If you’re waiting for a ‘you were right’, it ain’t coming, brother.”

Shrugging one shoulder, Link tucks his hands into the front pocket of his hoodie and offers Rhett a cheeky, unbothered smile. “I know I was right in my heart, and that’s all that matters.”

Sitting there with that look on his face, all cozy in one of his favourite black hoodies with the camo design on the front, Rhett can hardly be held responsible for the words that come out of his mouth when he tells him gravely, “You’re too damn cute for your own good, Neal.”

He gets a laugh in response, but the heat of the fire’s not the sole reason for the sudden pink flush in Link’s cheeks, Rhett suspects.

Smiling to himself, he lets his head recline, looking back up at the stars and offering, “Want to hear something neat?”

Link –with good reason, really – is immediately suspicious, squinting at Rhett from across the fire pit as he starts to amuse himself with their designated fire-poking stick, dipping the blackened end into the flames. “Why do I have a feeling that no matter what my answer is, you’re gonna tell me anyway?”

“Hey now,” Rhett argues mildly, but it’s more an automatic instinct than anything else; the words holding no real weight. “This one is cool, you’ll like it. It’s about space.”

From the expression on Link’s face, his suspicion’s only been lessened by one degree at most, but he still relents, shifting his attention from the fire to Rhett with an, “Alright, hit me with it.”

“So did you know that during a full moon, the position of the Earth is just right for Ursa Minor to completely disappear? I mean it’s still there, technically, but it’s not visible to the eye anymore because it’s the northern-most constellation, so it just kind of – _whoop_ ,” Rhett makes a swooshing gesture with his hand, “disappears.”

Link snorts and returns to poking at the fire with his stick. “You’re makin’ that up.”

“It’s true!” Rhett insists.

Link gives him one of those little eye roll/half smile combos, the kind that means he’s entirely certain Rhett’s wrong, but is willing to humor him anyway. Rhett’s seen that look a lot over the years, and he probably should’ve come to resent it at least a tiny bit at this point, but instead it just makes him want to smile. He never feels their ‘like an old married couple’ comparison quite as strongly as he does during moments like these. 

Eyes catching across the fire, they stare at each other in silent challenge, and eventually Rhett is the first to break, unable to stop himself from grinning as he starts to snicker.

“I knew it!” Link exclaims, throwing his hands up. “You’re so full of shit, man!”

“I almost had you though, right?” Rhett cackles, delighted. “For a minute you totally believed me!”

The eye roll Rhett’s on the receiving end of this time is anything but subtle as Link shakes his head, huffing out a slight laugh as he answers with a sarcastic, “Sure, Rhett.”

Under the muted light of the darkening sky, the glow of the campfire casts shadows across Link’s face, highlighting the tan of his skin and turning his eyes into shiny blue-and-black pools. He looks good. Real good. _Handsome_ , Rhett thinks, and he’s always been that way.

Rhett’s always known it, only now it’s more than a fleeting, objective fact. It’s a _feeling_. One that slides slow down his spine to gather low in his stomach, heavy and warm.

Rhett welcomes that warmth, breathes out and says, “C’mere, Neal.”

Some of his desperation must be bleeding through into his voice because Link cocks his head a little and studies Rhett with the kind of sly, slowly-forming grin that says he knows he’s got Rhett wrapped around his finger.

“You come over here,” Link counters, voice slipping into a tone that’s deep and teasing as he leans back and crosses his ankles, the picture of relaxed arrogance, and damn if that doesn’t make Rhett’s mouth go dry.

“You’re gonna make the man with a bad back go through all the trouble of standing up just to walk over there and sit back down again?” he asks, pride not allowing him to fold that easily.

“I think you’ll do it if you want it bad enough,” Link reasons, grin taking on a sharp edge. “So...do you want it?”

The answer to that is so blatantly obvious, Rhett doesn’t even bother to dignify it with a response, instead grumbling, “You’re a damn tease,” as he gets his knees under him and pushes himself off the ground and up to standing, wiping the flecks of grass and dirt from his hands.

“It’s not teasing if I plan on delivering,” Link points out, reaching his arms out so he can make impatient grabby hands at Rhett.

That gets Rhett laughing as he rounds the fire to plop back down at Link’s side, although in his case the ‘plop’ is more like a careful series of kneeling movements where he’s mindful of his spine the entire time.

“So sexy,” he jokes, easing himself down onto the ground after a bunch of maneuvering and Dad noises that he’ll vehemently deny later on. “Is this doin’ it for ya?”

Link is all smiles when Rhett finally settles down, shoulder to shoulder with him. “Maybe it is,” he says, automatically shifting so he can face Rhett more directly, knee pressing into Rhett’s thigh and right arm tucked between their bodies as he uses his left hand to cup the back of Rhett’s neck.

And maybe it really _is_ doing something for him, ‘cause from there he’s pulling Rhett forward into a kiss, sweet and simple, only lasting a few seconds before he pulls back just far enough to study Rhett’s face from barely an inch away.

Their eyes meet like that for two, three seconds - and it feels like each one of those seconds is being timed by the hard thump of Rhett’s heart like a metronome – until Link’s fingers curl tighter around the back of Rhett’s neck and he’s drawing him in again, eager and impatient now.

Rhett meets him half way this time, giving just as good as he’s receiving as Link’s mouth opens against his, the kiss gaining more depth and momentum the longer it goes on.

“’S been too long since we’ve been able to do this,” Link murmurs against his mouth, biting soft at Rhett’s bottom lip until he groans and pulls Link closer, slipping one hand up the back of his hoodie.

“Too damn long,” Rhett wholeheartedly agrees, feeling Link shiver when the flat of Rhett’s palm meets the skin of Link’s bare back.

Pressed up close like this, Link smells like campfire and fabric softener and himself; a combination that Rhett can’t get enough of, so he slides his hand down to catch a hold of one of Link’s hips, encouraging him to shift up and over, coming to straddle Rhett’s lap.

“We should take this inside,” Link whispers against his mouth.

“Why?” Rhett tugs Link’s head back, presses lips to the flushed skin of Link’s neck. “You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about having sex outdoors before. Under the stars, next to a fire... seems pretty perfect to me.”

Link hums when Rhett sucks a mark into the skin beneath his Adam’s apple. “But...dirt,” he says, half distracted as his eyes slide closed.

“We can get a blanket,” Rhett murmurs, pressing his tongue into the shallow dip at the base of Link’s throat.

Link shudders in response, fingers tightening their grip on the back of Rhett’s shirt. “Don’t wanna get hit with sparks either.”

“We’ll move back a ways.” He tucks his nose up against Link’s pulse point, feeling the steady, rapid beat. “It’ll be fine.”

Link’s fingers travel up to card through Rhett’s hair as he tilts his head, giving Rhett more access to his neck, and Rhett’s almost certain that he’s got Link convinced, until -

“What if an ant crawls up my butt or something?”

That one’s enough to get Rhett pausing, going utterly silent for two long, drawn-out seconds before he can’t hold back anymore, letting out a sputtering laugh and dropping his forehead into the crook of Link’s neck as his shoulders shake.

“Don’t laugh at me, man!” Link gives him a half-hearted swat with the back of his hand. “It’s a legitimate concern!”

Rhett pulls back enough to look at Link’s face, shaking his head as he continues to chuckle. “It’s just – you, with your self-proclaimed tightest anus, are worried about _an ant crawling up your butt_?”

“It could happen!” Link insists, even though he’s smiling at this point too. “You don’t know. And I am _not_ goin’ to the ER for anything butt-related on this trip,” he states, pausing for a second to reassess that statement and tack on, “hopefully not ever, but especially not right now. The crew already gives me enough grief with all the jokes that’ve been showin’ up in episodes these days.”

Honestly, Rhett can’t argue with him there.

“Well, there’s still plenty we can do without gettin’ naked,” Rhett says, punctuating the thought with raised eyebrows and hand gesture that’s pretty hard to misinterpret; fingers curled into a loose fist as he moves his arm.

Link stares at him for a moment before his brain finally catches up and he lets out an “Oh!” of understanding, flashing Rhett a crooked smile that’s all wicked suggestiveness. “A good ol’ fashioned tug sesh, huh?”

“ _What_?” Rhett snorts, dropping his hand back down to rest on Link’s thigh as he starts laughing. “When have you ever - I’ll give you fifty bucks right now if you can name one time you’ve ever heard anyone call jerking off a ‘tug sesh’.”

“Okay. Me, thirty seconds ago,” Link says smugly. “Pay up, sucka.”

“You can’t use what you _just_ said to prove your own point!” Rhett exclaims through his laughter.

“Says who?” Link says, smiling at him like crazy, all bright-eyed and goofy, and damn, does Rhett ever love him.

“Such a doofus,” Rhett says fondly, shaking his head as he leans forward into Link’s space. “You’re really asking for it, aren’t you?”

Turning his head, Link’s smile disappears into the side of Rhett’s beard, nose pressed warm against Rhett’s cheek. “Yeah,” he replies, getting his mouth close to Rhett’s ear before finishing, “askin’ for you to _pay up, sucka_.”

The breathless, high-pitched giggles Link lets out when Rhett tackles him are like music to his ears and he revels in it. In the endlessness of the star-speckled sky overhead. In the warmth of the campfire crackling nearby. In being here, with Link, laughing and kissing and goofing around like kids.

...or at least he does until Link accidentally elbows him in the back of the head, that is.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand we have a rating change! This chapter is brought to you by that meat stick poking game [where Rhett lifted his shirt and we all collectively lost our minds](https://vantaeprince.tumblr.com/post/621171507396296704/sensual-x).

Unsurprisingly, Rhett’s the first to wake up the next morning.

The sun is just starting to rise; materializing in the form of the warm, honey-soft light that’s starting to slant into the back of the van from the window above Rhett’s head.

Despite the early hour this is still California, so the rise of the sun means it’s already beginning to warm up in their makeshift bedroom - the air slightly stuffy after being closed up all night - so Rhett leaves the back doors splayed open wide after he slides off the mattress, letting the breeze float in.

They both slept nearly naked, stripped down to nothing but their underwear, and Rhett’s glad for it now. Otherwise he’d probably be waking up already sweaty, and if Link had words about getting the sheets sandy, then Rhett’s definitely gonna hear about it if he leaves a bucket full of perspiration behind. 

Taking a few nice, deep lung-fulls of the fresh morning air, he takes a moment to just observe. Be still. Feel the _essence_ of the hashtag van life, as Link would probably say.

He can’t see any birds nearby but they’re already loud this morning, busy singing off-key songs from somewhere amongst the thick green branches that line the perimeter of their camp site. He doesn’t worry about it waking Link though - the guy can sleep through way more of a racket than that and Rhett knows it.

It’s a relief to stand and stretch out to his full height after lying with his knees bent up for most of the night and Rhett’s gotta admit, there’s a real novelty to sliding out of bed and immediately planting your bare feet on the grassy, dirt-covered earth. Maybe Link really was onto something.

Tying his hair back into a bun, he starts to run through a series of his usual morning stretches. Cat-cow, up dog into down dog, and then spending a few minutes in child’s pose before he finishes up with a simple full-bodied stretch, reaching his arms straight overhead and groaning a little from how nice it feels.

He doesn’t realize he’s got an audience until he’s done – pausing to take the elastic out of his hair and rake fingers through the messy curls before dropping his hands to the waistband of his briefs, debating just stripping them off now - when there’s an appreciative whistle behind him.

The summer’s been kind to him, Rhett knows. Skin tanned to a light bronze instead of its usual freckled paleness. Plenty of walks and runs and workouts in his spare time having made his upper arms a little thicker, stomach a little more toned. At this point it’s almost a running joke; Link and Jessie constantly teaming up to tease him about “glowing up”. Rhett’s still learning how to accept the compliment for what it is instead of uncomfortably deflecting, but it’s definitely easier to do when he spins around and sees Link looking at him like that.

If Rhett had to describe it, he’d say Link is looking pretty damn good himself at the moment. He’s gone as far as putting his glasses on but his hair’s still a tousled mess, stubble covering his cheeks and chin as he sits amongst their pile of blankets, one leg tucked under him and the other knee bent up. And yeah, the view beyond their van is pretty amazing, but what’s inside the van is a hell of a sight too. Trees and birds don’t get his pulse going the way Link’s relaxed, easy smile does.

“That show was free, but the next one’ll cost ya,” Rhett jokes.

Link laughs, affection clear in every ounce of the sound, not to mention the look on his face. “And if I wanted you to drop the briefs,” he asks, eyes trailing down Rhett’s bare torso slow and unashamed, “how much is that gonna cost me?”

Rhett wets his lips. “Depends on what you plan on doin’ once they’re off.”

Link’s answering grin is quick and sharp; an arrow landing a bull’s-eye straight in the centre of Rhett’s libido. “Oh, I got plans,” he promises.

That’s all the incentive Rhett needs and he bends to strip his underwear off with no hesitation, keeping a hold of them in one hand as he slowly ambles back towards the van. It’s fifty percent acting, fifty percent actual confidence that keeps him from covering himself at all.

“You look like you belong in a freakin’ hippie mountain man porno or something.” Link laughs at him, but his eyes are all glittering and he’s doing that open-mouthed smile thing that means he’s at peak happiness levels, Rhett knows, so he’s content to let the comment slide.

“Hey, you’re the one who asked for it,” he reminds Link, smirking once he’s close enough to climb back onto the mattress, tossing his briefs off to the side so they can be stashed away with the rest of their dirty laundry later. “No refunds.”

“Never said I wasn’t happy about it,” Link replies, watching Rhett knee-walk his way up the mattress until he’s come close enough for Link to slide his arms around Rhett’s neck and kiss him.

Rhett opens his mouth into the kiss immediately, letting Link’s tongue in as hands start to roam over the expanse of Rhett’s shoulders and up into his hair.

He hums at the feeling, getting his hands on Link’s back, one palm pressed to the space between his shoulder blades while the other travels low, fingertips tucking into the top of Link’s underwear.

Link wriggles his hips at the touch, making Rhett laugh into his mouth and extract his fingers so he can give Link a playful swat on the ass.

Grinning, Link presses a few more lazy kisses against Rhett’s mouth before pulling back completely.

“Sit back against the wall,” he directs, offering nothing but a sly, enigmatic smile when Rhett shoots him a questioning look. “Told you I’ve got plans.”

If there’s one thing Rhett knows about Link it’s that he’s a meticulous planner, always focused on achieving perfection, so if Rhett wasn’t already half-hard from all the kissing, the thought of being on the receiving end of whatever Link’s got planned would definitely be doing it for him now.

Propping a few of their pillows up to support his back, Rhett settles against the wall of the van, legs stretched out long and thighs spread wide. “This good?”

Link bites his lower lip, eyes seemingly stuck on Rhett’s hand, which has slid down between his legs to loosely hold the weight of his cock.

“Yeah. Perfect,” he says before pulling his glasses off and handing them to Rhett. “Put those somewhere for me.”

Rhett takes the frames from him and leans, arms long enough that he just manages to push them onto the edge of their small kitchen counter that butts up against the far edge of the mattress.

If Link’s going sans glasses that usually means one thing, and Rhett feels a warm thrum of anticipation roll through him like a wave as he settles back into place against the pillows and tightens the grip on his dick, more than ready for it.

Sure enough, Link crawls into the space between Rhett’s spread legs, tilting his face up to kiss him once before he curves his body low, opens his mouth and lets the head of Rhett’s cock push past his lips.

_Fuck_.

Breath hitching, Rhett’s head falls back, eyes going shut without his permission as the wet heat of Link’s mouth whites out all his other senses.

Link’s tongue is the perfect combination of soft and strong when he runs it slowly down Rhett’s length, all silky smooth friction with just the right amount of pressure to make Rhett groan, wanting to move his hips restlessly.

He’s stuck in place though when Link presses one hand firmly to the side of Rhett’s pelvis, keeping him still while using the other to pull Rhett’s own hand away from where it’s still wrapped around the base of his dick. Rhett waits for it readily; anticipating that Link’s hand will replace his own with a firm, warm grip, but relief doesn’t come.

What he gets instead is flat out teasing – nothing but light, fleeting touches of Link’s fingertips along his shaft or the pad of his thumb rubbing slow circles on the underside – until Rhett swears under his breath, shivering when his dick gives a deep, heavy throb that feels like it’s reverberating through his whole body.

God, he’s so turned on it’s unreal.

“Link,” he says – begs, really, with no shame at this point – and finally, _finally_ , Link wraps his hand fully around Rhett’s cock, moving so slow Rhett can feel precisely when every single one of Link’s fingers make contact with the hot skin of Rhett’s dick.

Just as slowly, Link starts sliding his fist up and down, working what isn’t already in his mouth and it’s torture, horrible and wonderful in equal measure; every single muscle in Rhett’s body wound so tight it feels like he could snap clean in half like a dead twig.

Link just presses harder into Rhett’s pelvis – _don’t move –_ and pulls almost all the way off, mouth focusing all its attention on the head now as he circles the flat of his tongue around Rhett’s slit before hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard.

“Babe,” Rhett chokes out, hand finding Link’s shoulder and gripping it hard, unsure if he wants to push him away or pull him down deeper. It’s hot and tight and the way Link closes his eyes and makes these little noises like he’s enjoying it just as much as Rhett is...to say it feels good would be a laughable understatement.

His other hand is almost shaky when he finally gets it to unclench from around the fistful of blankets he’s unconsciously grabbed, bringing it up to rest on the top of Link’s head, letting his fingers sink into Link’s hair and hold on. Rhett tries to be gentle, but it feels like he only has about twenty percent control over his body right now and Link makes an approving humming sound at the added weight, so it must be okay.

Still though -

“Tell me,” he struggles to put words together with what few functioning brain cells he has left, “if you need to stop.”

Mouth still firmly wrapped around him, Link pauses for a second, tilting his head enough to look up at Rhett and raise his eyebrows in a dry way that clearly says ‘your dick isn’t _that_ huge’. 

It makes an unexpected laugh burst out of Rhett, one that morphs into a low, uneven groan when Link catches him off guard and suddenly decides to take him all the way down deep, doing something magical in combination with his throat and tongue that has Rhett tipping his head back and gasping at the roof of the van as he comes with no warning, swift and sudden while humor’s still bubbling warm and bright in his chest.

Before Link, he never knew an orgasm could feel like that - so good in a way that has nothing to do with the actual sexual pleasure of it. Just one of the weird perks of being intimate with your best friend slash comedic partner, he supposes.

When he finally regains enough of his senses, Rhett clumsily hauls Link up, letting their combined weight rest back against the wall as Link climbs into his lap, meeting him for a kiss so Rhett can taste the way Link’s grinning too.

“Good?” Link asks once they part, as if he doesn’t know the answer already.

Rhett huffs, still sweaty and dazed and a little out of breath. “Like you need your ego stroked,” he tells him, running his hands down Link’s sides from ribs to thighs and letting them linger there where the skin is extra smooth. Link’s been shaving pretty regularly all summer and Rhett would be lying if he said he wasn’t at least a little obsessed with it. “You know damn well how good you are.”

“Well if you won’t stroke my _ego_...” Link arches his eyebrows and looks down to where his own underwear are visibly tented in the front.

“Oh, I’ll do better than stroke,” Rhett promises, twisting suddenly so all of Link’s weight shifts abruptly to one side and Rhett can use the momentum to flip their positions, Link pressed down into the mattress below him now.

Looking up at him with big, dark eyes, Link laughs, curling his hands around Rhett’s biceps where he’s supporting his weight on either side of Link’s torso. “Promises, promises,” he says, teasing. “Let’s see some action, McLaughlin.”

That sounds like a challenge if Rhett’s ever heard one, so action is exactly what Rhett gives him.

After all, Link might be the planner, but Rhett’s the born performer.


	5. Chapter 5

To celebrate their last night in Big Sur before hitting the road again, they decide to cut loose; drinking more than either of them can remember in recent memory.

Three beers in, it becomes startlingly apparent to Rhett that he really isn’t as young as he used to be.

Worn out and heavy-limbed, he groans, stretched out flat on his back on the grassy ground adjacent to their fire pit. “Our bed is so far away,” he mourns, looking longingly towards where their van is parked on the far side of the campsite. “Link, I think I live here now.”

Link, ever the giggly drunk, just laughs from his place beside Rhett, slouched down low against the tree stump he’d been using as a seat until things like balance and coordination started becoming too difficult and he’d slid down to sit directly on the ground. At least he’s still a bit more upright and functional than Rhett feels at the moment.

“Have my mail forwarded. Tell Jessie and the boys I love them. Who was that model who said she wouldn’t get out of bed for less than ten grand or something?” Rhett wonders out loud. “That’s me now.”

His little drunken monologue just makes Link laugh harder, until he’s flopping sideways and pressing his forehead into Rhett’s shoulder as he shakes with laughter.

“We’ve done way worse things for a hell of a lot less than ten grand, man,” Link chuckles into the sleeve of Rhett’s shirt and it feels nice. Warm. Good to have him so close.

Rhett smiles up at the dark sky then turns his head, trying to look at Link. The angle is bad - all he can really see is a shock of dark, silvery hair - and suddenly, to his drunken brain, getting eyes on Link’s happy, laughing face is desperately important.

It feels like an insurmountable task, but somehow he manages to heave himself up onto one elbow and roll onto his side, leaving himself and Link lying face to face like a pair of curved parentheses.

“Hi,” he huffs, a little out of breath.

“Hi.” Link grins at him and yep, that smile. Totally worth it.

“We’re gonna regret this in the morning,” Rhett says with all the sage, serious wisdom of a truly intoxicated person.

“Oh yeah,” Link agrees, nodding his head a few times for good measure. “Hey. Hey - y’know what we should do? We should write a song. Haven’t written a song together in like -” he scrunches his nose up, clearly trying and failing to pull something out of his memory bank, “- so long. _So long_ , Rhett.”

“Yeah, s’been too long,” Rhett confirms, immediately on board with the idea. After all, the three pillars of a good campfire are songs, s’mores and scary stories, so one out of three ain’t bad, he figures. Especially considering that the odds of any ghost stories happening around Link are slim at best. “Shoulda brought my guitar. Damn.”

“S’okay. We can work on the music part later. Jus’ use the app. The recordy – the voice recorder thing,” Link tells him, trying to reach for the phone in the front pocket of Rhett’s jeans but only succeeding in cupping his junk instead.

Intentional or not, Rhett’s content to let Link’s hand hang out there as long as it wants, grunting when he leans further onto one hip, trying to fish his phone out of his pocket. “This isn’t breaking your no technology rule, right?”

“I’ll allow it,” Link says graciously, making them both crack up.

“Okay.” Rhett finally gets a hold of his phone and pulls it free. The sudden movement combined with the fact that he’s still laughing makes his head swim a little, so he plants one palm on the ground and pushes himself upright, trying to get his bearings. “Gotta – _whoo_ \- gotta sit up.”

“Hey man, don’t leave me behind,” Link says, still sprawled out on the grass, looking up at Rhett with big, faux-sad eyes. A stray bit of bark off their fire wood has somehow found its way into the top of his hair, and it takes two tries before Rhett’s less-than-coordinated fingers are able to pluck it out.

“Dork,” he says, but he reaches for Link’s hand anyway, grasping it tight as he tenses the muscles in his arm, bracing to pull Link up.

Either he pulls too hard or Link tries to help out too enthusiastically because the next thing Rhett knows, Link is falling into him with an ‘ _oof_ ’ of surprise, almost smashing his forehead directly into Rhett’s.

“Woah - watch yourself, brother.” Rhett does his best to steady him by the shoulders, legs tangling together and Link half-sprawled in his lap.

“I’m good,” Link assures, squirming around a little before he gives up and relaxes all his weight into Rhett. Pressing his face into the side of Rhett’s neck, he mumbles, “Just gonna hang out here for a while.”

Rhett laughs, looping both arms around Link’s back to hang onto him. If all the beer’s been good for one thing, it’s definitely helped to loosen up his own back – or at least numb any lingering discomfort - so Rhett’s more than okay with acting as Link’s chair for the foreseeable future.

“So what’s our song gonna be about? You been thinkin’ about anything in particular?”

Link gives a hum of confirmation. “I sorta had an idea ‘bout how when you drop a piece of toast it always falls with the buttered side down. It could be like a metaphor or somethin’. All these instances of things goin’ wrong in life.”

“Nice,” Rhett approves, hugging him closer so he can settle his chin on the top of Link’s shoulder. “We can work with that.”

“It’d be somethin’ like la-la, la-da-da.” Link starts piecing together a melody, tapping it out on the back of Rhett’s shoulder blade as he goes.

“My toast always falls, butter-side down,” Rhett sings a quick line to the tune Link’s created, breaking into a chuckle when he’s finished. “Sounds good. I like it, man.”

“Me too.” Link pulls his face back from where it’s been buried against Rhett’s throat, growing more animated now that they’ve started building some creative momentum. “Sing it again, I wanna join in.”

“My toast always falls,” Rhett starts again while Link follows a beat behind him this time, layering in a short accompanying harmony.

“Toast always-”

“Butter-side down.”

“-butter-side down, yeah.”

“Somethin’ somethin’ always rains, when no umbrella’s around,” Rhett keeps going, randomly throwing out a half-formed verse that makes Link laugh happily.

“Yes! Are you recording yet? Gimme your phone,” Link says, fumbling to turn it right-way up when Rhett hands it to him, and even tipsy, Rhett’s impressed by the way Link manages to enter the passcode correctly in two seconds flat, like it’s second nature.

It probably shouldn’t be a surprise to him – they’re basically co-owners of each other’s phones at this point anyway, Rhett figures. But still, it feels...nice. There’s something oddly comforting about sharing so much of everything with another person. Two halves of a whole with nothing to hide.

“One more time from the top,” Link tells him, angling the phone speaker-end up between them and tapping the record button so they can sing their roughly drafted lines into the app.

It’s far from their most polished performance, but Rhett still feels a pleasant shiver down his spine when their voices meld together, his baritone entwining seamlessly with Link’s higher range, complimenting each other perfectly. No matter how often they do this, he never fails to feel a sense of pride over the way they sound together.

Link must be feeling it too because their voices have barely faded out at the end before he’s moving to kiss Rhett, pressing two short, light pecks to his lips. When he pulls back the second time, it’s only for a moment, eyes dropping down to look at Rhett’s mouth before he goes in again, kissing him deeper and longer this time.

Rhett makes a rough, pleased noise into the kiss, letting his arms curl tighter around Link. “We still need a chorus,” he murmurs against Link’s mouth, absently starting to rub Link’s back while he’s at it.

“And it’s gotta be hopeful,” Link decides, eyes slipping half-shut and letting out a happy groan when Rhett hits a particularly good spot over his bad shoulder. “Like yeah all this bad stuff happens, but the main message needs to be that it everything’s gonna work out fine in the end.”

Letting his hand linger in that spot, Rhett presses his lips together, considering. “Good point.”

They both think on it for a while, staring distantly at the fire, then the sky, then each other, trying to dredge up some kind of inspiration, but all Rhett feels is pleasantly warm and drowsy. Now that some of the initial song-writing excitement’s worn off, he’s slipping back into the sleepy-drunk phase of the evening, it seems. 

Link doesn’t seem to be faring much better, periodically pushing his glasses up so he can rub at his eyes as he sings little half-formed ideas to himself under his breath.

“But everything’ll be okayyy...” he trails off holding the note, floundering for a way to end that thought before finally landing on, “if you just eat a sandwich.”

Rhett lets out a loud laugh, equal parts surprised and amused. “You wanna make it about being hangry? ‘Cause we can do that.”

Link shrugs, offering a small, half-embarrassed laugh of his own. “I was just throwin’ it out there. It’s dumb.”

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Rhett grins, tightening both arms around Link to jostle him. “It’s great, man!”

Link’s mouth is curved into a doubtful frown, but Rhett can tell it’s the kind of frown that means he’s secretly pleased. “Yeah?”

“Double yeah,” Rhett answers, which doesn’t even really make sense, but it does earn him a smile before Link’s letting out a big, jaw-cracking yawn directly into Rhett’s face.

“Whoops,” he says when he realizes his breath probably reeks like stale beer at this point (and Rhett can confirm that yeah, it’s definitely not the best thing he’s smelled all day). “Guess that’s my cue to call it a night. Reconvene in the morning?”

“Yeah, I’m beat, man. And you’ve gotta get off me soon anyway,” Rhett tells him with a chuckle, patting Link’s thigh where he’s still seated in Rhett’s lap. “I lost all the feeling in my legs like an hour ago.”

* * *

Overtired, they stumble through their nightly chores of extinguishing the camp fire, brushing their teeth and stripping out of their clothes.

Sliding into bed in the back of the van feels like heaven to Rhett; relief for his tired body after all he’s had to drink and so many hours spent seated on the hard ground.

“Oh gosh.” The sigh Link lets out when he stretches out next to Rhett is nearly pornographic, obviously experiencing the same kind of mattress-induced bliss as Rhett. “When it’s time to leave in the morning, just start driving. I’mma sleep back here for the next thirty hours.”

Chuckling, Rhett scoots closer to him, faces inches apart on their respective pillows. “What about me? Maybe I want to sleep for thirty hours too.”

“Then we get Pokey to drive us,” Link replies, craning his neck to direct a glasses-less squint across the van to where their little cactus resides on the ledge of the counter top. He starts laughing to himself almost immediately afterwards and Rhett rolls his eyes at him fondly, stretching one leg out to kick Link in the ankle.

“What’s so funny?”

“Cactus driver’s license photos,” is the only explanation Link offers, clearly amused with whatever joke his tipsy, tired brain’s come up with.

It’s so randomly absurd, Rhett can’t help but laugh, the two of them snickering into their pillowcases like they’re eight years old again, telling each other dumb jokes way past their bedtime.

Still smiling, Link’s eyes rove carefully over Rhett’s face in the dark, starting at his forehead and finally coming to rest down low on Rhett’s mouth. There’s a softness in his gaze that makes something pang in Rhett’s chest, but it’s the good kind of pang. Appreciative. The kind that means he knows he’s one hell of a lucky man.

“Hey,” Rhett blurts out, unable to look away from the way Link’s eyes turn such a deep, vibrant blue when he stares at Rhett like that. He’s just...he’s so _good_. Smart and funny, attractive, dependable. A way better person than Rhett deserves, and Rhett needs him to know that. “I love you, man.”

“Me too. For you, I mean. I love you too.” Link cuts himself off with a laugh. “My brain can’t even put words together right now.”

“You’re getting delirious.” Rhett smiles, reaching up to brush some of Link’s hair off his forehead. “Go to sleep, Linkster.”

“Mmm.” Links mouth curves up on one side, eyes sliding shut as Rhett’s hand starts to card through his hair. “S’been a while since you’ve called me that.”

“Yeah?” Rhett murmurs, and as tired as he feels, he’d be perfectly content to lie like this all night long. Running fingers through Link’s hair. Making sure he sleeps soundly. “You like it?”

“’Course I do,” Link answers like it’s obvious, voice slowing to a soft drawl as he starts to fall asleep. “I like everything to do with you.”


	6. Chapter 6

Morning isn’t particularly kind to either of them after their night of drinking, but one trip to the campground showers and two strong cups of coffee made on their hot plate later, they’re back on the road and Rhett’s feeling pretty good, all things considered.

Link is driving for this leg of the journey and they’ve only got a short one planned for today - heading up to Sonoma - which Google Maps tells Rhett is roughly three and a half hours away.

“ _No_ ,” he groans when a familiar guitar riff starts to make its way through the speakers; Link trying to get away with playing a fifth John Mayer song in a row. Reaching for Link’s phone where it’s sitting in the cup holder between them, hooked up to the van’s audio system, Rhett declares, “I’m officially using one of my vetoes. No more Mayer, man. My ears need a break.”

Decked out in his sunglasses and Camp Vibes hat, Link frowns from his place behind the wheel. “Y’know, sometimes I truly question how we’re still friends,” he says, giving a disappointed shake of his head. “I can’t believe I’ve kissed the mouth that’s capable of sayin’ such blasphemous things.”

“Hey!” Rhett exclaims, successfully skipping the song before he reaches over to slap Link on the shoulder. “The veto’s supposed to be a free pass! No insults.”

Still looking straight ahead at the road, Link’s frown starts to quirk upwards, amused but trying not to show it. “That was a general observation,” he insists, “not an insult.”

“Yeah? Well I generally observe that you’re a jerk,” Rhett counters with a straight face, succeeding in making Link laugh outright.

“So you wanna throw on some Rihanna or somethin’?” Link teases him. “Would that make you feel better?”

Rhett scoffs. “That’s not even close to the same thing, man! I’ve got no shot with Rihanna. You-”

Link cuts him off with an incredulous laugh. “What, you think _I’ve_ got a shot with John Mayer?”

“You could win him over,” Rhett tells him grudgingly. “You’ve got all that charm and good looks working for you.”

From behind his sunglasses, Link shoots him a quick look, expression flattered and amused in equal parts. “Well lucky for you, I’m a one-woman and one-man man. You think between three kids, Christy _and_ you _,_ I got time to be chasin’ anyone else?”

Rhett shrugs, looking out the window. “You’ve got time to creep his Reddit thread. Just sayin’.”

Biting at his bottom lip, Link tries to hold in a smile. “You’re cute when you get jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Rhett insists, because he’s _not_. Link can like whoever he wants - it’s not like Rhett cares _at all_. As codependent as they may be, they’re allowed to have different opinions. Different likes and dislikes, hobbies and preferences. So it’s fine. Totally fine.

“Uh huh,” Link says, tone heavy with skepticism. Eyes still focused on the road, he reaches across the console to hold one hand palm-up, echoing Rhett’s move from their first morning spent driving in the van.

Rhett looks down at Link’s hand for a moment before repeating, “I’m not jealous,” and threading their fingers together.

Link doesn’t reply, but there’s a tiny smile pulling at his lips as he continues to drive, and when the opening notes of another John Mayer song start drifting through the speakers twenty minutes later, he automatically hits the button to skip it, no questions asked.

* * *

Their night in Sonoma is quiet and low key; both of them still feeling the lingering effects of their morning hangovers in the form of yawns and half-lidded eyes by the time 9 p.m. rolls around.

They spend a bit of time talking and cuddling before finally dozing off, Rhett playing little spoon as Link curves his whole body around Rhett like a clinging koala bear, nose pressed into the warm skin at the back of Rhett’s neck.

In the morning, they pack some water and snacks and head out on a long hike through the redwoods.

“Remember the Rhettwoods?” Link huffs as they make their way up one of the steeper inclines of the trail. At least there’s plenty of tree coverage overhead, blocking out the worst of the mid-morning sun, so neither of them have really started sweating yet. “How many years ago was that? I betcha those trees are what, teenagers by now? We’ve got _teenagers_ , Rhett.”

Rhett snorts, following a couple steps behind him. “We’ve already got teenagers, man. Like, real human ones that actually share our DNA and everything.”

“I know, but the Rhettwoods are kinda like _our_ babies.” Link stops in his tracks and spins around to face Rhett, widening his eyes as he makes a sound like he’s having some kind of epiphany. “Does that make them Pokey’s siblings? It does, doesn’t it? Man, we have so many plant babies together. Who knew?”

“Okay, now you’re talking just for the sake of hearing yourself talk,” Rhett observes, laughing when Link levels him with an unimpressed look.

It feels almost like walking through a movie scene as they continue to wind their way along the dirt-packed trails: the way the sunshine streams through the canopy overhead in thin, golden beams; the sheer enormity of some of the tree trunks they pass, covered in gnarled old bark and split at the bottom, creating large, dark crevices that look big enough for any one of their kids to fit into.

“You know, I could totally do this for a living,” Rhett muses once they’re stopped for a water break, seated side by side on a fallen log a few feet off trail. Like always, they’re close enough that the edges of their feet are touching, so Rhett uses the opportunity to nudge the toe of his now-dusty shoe into the side of Link’s. “Being a park ranger, living out here in a cabin for eight months out of the year...”

“Spouting random nature facts to anyone who’ll listen,” Link contributes dryly. “Yeah, I can see it.”

“Bet I’d get a cool belt with a walkie talkie on it too.” Rhett ignores the jab, taking another swig from his water bottle. “You know I’d look good in that uniform.”

Link makes a show of slowly looking Rhett up and down, assessing the accuracy of that claim before he shrugs one shoulder and replies with a noncommittal, “Eh.”

Feigning offense, Rhett reaches over to give him a playful push in the shoulder. “Well, better get used to the idea, buddy, cause if I’m doing it, you’re doing it too.”

He didn’t push all that hard, but Link still flails a little at the unexpected touch, trying to keep his balance on the log. “And why exactly do I have to be there?” he asks once he’s regained some stability, both eyebrows raising as he looks over at Rhett.

Rhett stares back at him like he’s just grown two extra heads. “Because,” he says like it’s obvious, and really, it should be at this point.

Link knows it too, because his answering grin is more of a shit-eating smirk than anything else. “Because why?”

Rhett rolls his eyes, feeling a smile start to take over his own face. “You know the answer to that, Mr. If I Was a Shirt Folder I’d Want to Look Over and See You Folding Them Too,” he quotes to Link. “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten the most romantic thing you’ve ever said to me. I’m wounded, Link. Shattered. Deep in my soul-”

Link cuts him off with an exasperated groan, covering his face with one hand as his cheeks start to gain some extra colour. “Shut up.”

“You asked,” Rhett reminds him, grinning outright now because blushy, embarrassed Link is one of his favourite Links. He’s just too easy to rile up sometimes. “Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it, brother.”

“The wilderness can have you,” Link mutters darkly into the palm of his hand, face still hidden. “It’d be doin’ me and Jessie both a favour.”

Rhett snorts and flicks the end of his water bottle in Link’s direction, making Link jump in surprise when he gets hit with a brief spray of droplets.

“Hey!” he automatically exclaims, pausing a second later to re-evaluate his now-wet state and confess, “that feels pretty nice actually. Hit me again.”

Laughing, Rhett leans over and lets a bit more water sprinkle onto the back of Link’s neck this time, cooling him off.

“Shoulda gone swimming instead of hiking. It’s too hot out here,” Link complains, tipping his head down to give Rhett better access.

“We can do all the swimming we want when we hit the beach tomorrow,” Rhett points out, their final destination being just a day away now. “And surfing. Man, I’m dying to get out surfing.”

The plan is to spend two nights parked out at Westport Union-Landing Beach - the culmination of their trip - before it’ll be time for them to turn around and start working their way back home, and honestly, Rhett’s been looking forward to this part since the beginning. Parking their van out on a remote, quiet cliff-side overlooking the ocean. Going to sleep to the soundtrack of rolling waves. Waking up to wide, panoramic stretches of sand and salt-fresh air. Living like a postcard come to life.

It’s a pretty awesome concept to begin with, made even better by the fact that Link’ll be doing it with him.

“You surf all you want,” Link says, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and then upwards, working some of the remaining water up into his hair. “You know I’m down for paddle boarding with you, but then I’mma fall asleep on the beach and work on my tan.”

Ah yes, Link’s sudden interest in tanning. AKA, the bane of Rhett’s existence.

“I should burn those tiny shorts,” Rhett mutters mostly to himself, taking another drink from his bottle and making Link laugh.

“Hey, if it’s secluded enough I might not even need the short shorts.” Link waggles his eyebrows, aiming for suave but coming across like a grade-A doofus, in Rhett’s opinion.

He lets Link know it by hooking his fingers into the front of Link’s t-shirt and towing him in, tilting his head so that when their mouths meet, it’s seamless.

Link returns the kiss happily, even though Rhett can tell from the way Link’s tempo has fallen a half-step behind Rhett’s that he’s confused by the sudden bout of PDA. He never has been good at multi-tasking when he’s thinking one thing and trying to do another.

Sure enough, when they part for air and Link’s kiss-hazy eyes have refocused, the first thing he says is, “What was that for?”

“Cause you’re ridiculous,” Rhett tells him, releasing the front of Link’s t-shirt so he can cup the side of Link’s jaw instead, thumb rubbing briefly over his bottom lip, “and I kinda really love that about you.”

“Sappy.” Link says it like an accusation, but there’s a smile on his face and he’s the one drawing Rhett in for the next kiss, warm and unhurried, so he must not mind it all that much.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're about to earn that E rating again ;)

By the time they hit Westport Union-Landing State Beach, it becomes apparent that they’ve lucked out.

This late in August, the beach is sparse with other campers so they’re able to secure the perfect spot to park the van, backing it up along the side of a bluff overlooking the Pacific so that when they throw the back doors open, they’re immediately greeted with views of nothing but blue open skies and even bluer open waters.

It may not be _quite_ secluded enough for Link to go strutting around minus his short shorts, but it is pleasantly private. From their vantage point Rhett can see one older couple in an RV parked a couple hundred feet away, but otherwise he and Link pretty much have free range of the place, and he couldn’t be happier about it.

“Now _this_ is the hashtag van life I’m talkin’ about!” Link swats Rhett in the chest with the back of his hand - an excited ‘are you seeing this?!’ kind of gesture - as they stand a reasonable distance from the edge of the cliff, watching the waves crash and spray below. This is Link after all, so Rhett was reluctant to let them park _too_ close to the edge. “Look at this view, man!” 

The scenery is definitely impressive, but when Rhett glances over at Link’s profile, wanting to see how much he’s enjoying it, that’s the view that really captivates him.

The cool breeze off the ocean is ruffling Link’s hair, sunshine highlighting his summer tan and adding to the vibrant, sparkling blue of his eyes, and Rhett feels something catch in his throat at the sight.

Handsome’s not even the right word - he’s _beautiful_. But saying that now’s only gonna earn Rhett an eye roll and possible punch in the arm, so instead he settles for stepping a little closer, wrapping one arm around Link’s shoulders and leaning in to kiss his temple before looking back out over the water. There’ll be plenty of time to tell Link later once the mood’s working in Rhett’s favour and the sun’s gone down, the two of them curled up in the back of the van with clothes kicked off and bodies slotted together.

“It’s...wow,” he agrees. “I know we technically live near this exact same body of water-”

“But it’s different,” Link finishes for him, getting exactly what Rhett’s trying to say. “ _Feels_ different, anyway.”

“We sure don’t get views like this back home,” Rhett confirms, letting his arm drop from Link’s shoulder to the middle of his back, lingering there for an impromptu back rub. “You brought some good clothes with you, right? We should go somewhere nice for dinner tonight. Celebrate that we made it all the way out here.”

“Mm...go lower,” Link hums, directing Rhett’s hand exactly where he wants it. “I’ve got a couple nicer shirts, yeah. You already got a restaurant in mind?”

“I had my eye on a place when we got here,” Rhett admits, “but it’s your call.” Given how particular Link is about his food, many years and petty arguments have taught Rhett that it’s much easier if he throws out options and lets Link have the final say.

“Steakhouse or Italian, yes. Seafood – hey!” Link laughs, squirming out of range when Rhett abruptly switches from back rub to tickling, poking his fingers into Link’s sensitive ribs.

“Seafood HEY,” Rhett mimics, grinning as he tries to twist out of the way himself when Link attempts to exact revenge by getting his hands under the hem of Rhett’s shirt. “No – _ah!_ Jeez, why are your hands so cold, man?”

“Probably ‘cause yours are always so hot,” Link answers, struggling to keep a hold of Rhett around the waist while Rhett tries to worm his way free. “It’s like natural adaption or whatever. Your hands’ve been sweaty since forever, so mine’ve gotten colder to compensate.” 

“I want to give you shit for that,” Rhett tells him, finally giving up the fight and resigning himself to having Link’s arms wrapped around his middle, “but it’s actually a pretty cool theory. No pun intended.”

“Hey, don’t sound so surprised. I’m full of good theories,” Link insists, leaning his weight into Rhett now that Rhett’s finished struggling. It feels pretty nice, and the worst of the chill is gone from Link’s hands now that they’ve been warmed against Rhett’s skin for a while, so Rhett accepts the cuddle without complaint.

He wraps his arms around Link in return and they stay like that, content to gaze out at the ocean until Link’s nose becomes the next cold object to sneak its way onto Rhett’s bare skin and they retreat to the back of the van for some warmer clothes.

* * *

Maybe it’s the expensive food. The low, intimate lighting. The crisp pants and button-down shirts that’ve replaced the basic shorts and t-shirts they’ve been existing in over the last five days. They way they keep brushing feet and knees and elbows together throughout dinner, reluctant to ever truly break contact.

Whatever the cause, they barely make it back to the van before they’re tugging at each others’ shirts, mouths crashing together as they tumble onto the bed.

Rhett drags his hands down the length of Link’s back while Link tangles his hands in Rhett’s hair, meeting him half way for a series of kisses that are just this side of too rough; a show of impatience on both their parts.

“You looked so good tonight,” Rhett murmurs in between them, struggling to unbutton Link’s pants without separating their mouths too much. “Been lookin’ good this whole trip. So hard to keep my hands offa you sometimes.”

Link lifts his hips off the bed, letting Rhett drag his pants down once the button’s finally free. “I’ve been wantin’ to do this since before they even brought us our drinks,” he confesses, both of their hands moving to clumsily work at the front of Rhett’s pants now. “Thought about just sayin’ screw it and dragging you back here, but I know not to get in the way of you and your food.”

Rhett chuckles, bending to kiss him again before he sits up and pulls off his pants and shirt, eyes fixing on Link’s bare torso when Link takes the opportunity to strip out of his own shirt as well. “It would be a tough call between you and that steak,” he admits.

“But the steak would still win,” Link accuses, grinning.

Rhett mentally shuffles through a few possible responses to that before settling on, “No comment.”

It makes Link laugh, shaking his head fondly as he reaches for Rhett, drawing him back down now that they’re both naked.

Link’s skin is warm and he smells good as Rhett kisses a path from his shoulder up to his mouth, and after about the fourth time he feels Link’s hands creep downwards to grab at his ass, Rhett breaks their next kiss to tease, “You want somethin’?” before he keeps moving, turning to mouth at the side of Link’s neck where the skin is soft and his pulse is fluttering; the beat noticeably faster than normal.

Link’s answer comes in the form of an unintelligible moan that sounds suspiciously like Rhett’s name, breath hitching when Rhett’s mouth pauses there, teeth raking gently over Link’s skin.

He’s going for impact when he starts to work a deliberately slow trail of kisses up closer to Link’s ear, eventually pausing there to murmur a low-pitched offer of, “You can fuck me if you want.”

Making a rough noise in the back of his throat, Link grabs a handful of Rhett’s hair to haul his face back up, kissing him again. It’s harder now, urgent and unrefined, which is pretty much a dead giveaway as to what Link’s answer is.

It’s easy to lose more time like that – especially when Link starts opening his mouth into it, inviting Rhett’s tongue inside - but eventually Rhett steers them back on track, breaking the kiss to catch his breath.

“If we’re gonna do this, you’ve gotta let me go,” he tells Link with a laugh, trying to work his way over towards the edge of the mattress so he can grab some supplies from their duffle bags that’ve been pushed under the side of the bed. It wouldn’t be so much of an issue if it weren’t for the extra hundred and sixty pounds of best friend/significant other currently weighing him down.

Link makes a displeased noise but releases his hold on Rhett, propping himself up on one arm to watch as Rhett leans over and starts rooting through their things. “Grab some wet wipes too,” he requests. “Probably easier than tryin’ to clean up in the sink.”

Glancing across the van at said sink - which is practically Barbie doll sized for a man of his stature - Rhett frowns. “Good call.”

Armed with lube, a condom, and the wet wipes, he dumps everything onto the bed then settles down next to Link, immediately getting one hand on the back of Link’s neck to draw him back in.

“The beard burn I’m gonna have tomorrow...” Link complains, but he’s eager when his mouth meets Rhett’s again and it’s not long before he’s shifted up onto his knees, kneeling in the space between Rhett’s legs as he reaches one hand out, searching for the lube by touch alone.

Rhett’s feeling warm all over by the time he spreads his legs a little wider, planting his feet on the mattress so his knees are bent upwards. As much as he loves to just make out with Link, the anticipation of what’s to come is starting to kill him. “You wanna do the honors?”

Link’s answering grin is bordering on wicked. “Absolutely.”

Rhett’s always thought that Link has nice hands - long fingers that’re thin but strong and always in motion, whether they’re busy adjusting his glasses, raking through his hair, or fiddling with his wedding ring - and when one of those hands slip down between Rhett’s legs, the pad of one slick finger sinking inside of him slow and steady enough to make him groan, everything Rhett’s already known is only further confirmed.

Good hands. Yeah. 

He breathes through the pressure of a second finger, then a third, until he’s panting and too hot and Link finally deems him ready, tearing open the condom and rolling it on. Shuffling closer to Rhett on his knees he strokes himself a few times, using up the leftover lube on his fingers before he looks right at Rhett, eyebrows quirked in question.

After so many years together, the pair of them in-tune in every way possible, they don’t even need words to have the conversation; Link’s call is automatically met with Rhett’s response.

_You ready?_

_Yeah. Ready._

Rhett closes his eyes, head tipped back as he feels the first hot press of Link’s cock against him.

Link pushes in slow, patient in a way that’s uncharacteristic of him in so many other areas of his life. Every few seconds he’s pausing, easing his hips half way back and then pressing forward again, and Rhett appreciates it at first – Link definitely isn’t small by any definition - but it’s not long before he’s acclimatized to the feeling and then it just becomes _mean_.

“Faster,” he groans, hooking one leg around Link’s thigh in an attempt to pull him in, trying to set the pace for himself. “Link, c’mon. You’re killin’ me here.”

When Link stares down at him, his eyes are dark and full of heat; the usual bright blue eclipsed by big, blown pupils. “Nope,” he pants out, working his hips in a slow grind that’s doing serious damage to Rhett’s mental faculties, “you’re gonna take whatever I give ya.”

Fuck.

He doesn’t even realize he’s said it out loud until Link laughs breathlessly, high on a combination of endorphins and power, Rhett suspects. He should have known this was coming, really. Whenever Link tops, things tend to get...intense. The man definitely likes to be in control. It’s hot as hell and a little terrifying at the same time, if Rhett’s honest.

Swearing again, he grabs a fistful of blankets with one hand, letting the other seek out Link’s hip and anchor itself there. There’s a restless itching on the top of Rhett’s skin that makes him want to move, force his hips up, flip them over and start setting the pace for himself, but with the way Link’s body is curved over him, all lean muscle and tanned skin pinning him down, all he can do is lie there and take it, and damn if that isn’t the worst and best feeling in the world. 

“You feel incredible.” Link’s cheeks are flushed and his jaw is held tight as he rocks into Rhett again, each thrust igniting a line of sparks along Rhett’s spine. “Gonna make you come just like this.”

Rhett moans low in his throat, feeling his cock throb hot and wet where it’s curved up hard against his stomach. “Can’t,” he manages to get out. “Fuck. You’ve gotta go harder.”

Link shakes his head, eyes briefly falling shut as he lets out a quiet groan of his own, fighting to keep up that steady, measured tempo when his body clearly wants to start chasing more. “Just like this,” he repeats, voice gone low and unsteady.

God, if Rhett survives this it’s gonna be a miracle.

“You’re such an asshole,” he pants, frustrated, loving it and hating it when Link’s pace never budges. It feels like he could come in an instant or an hour and there’s absolutely no way to tell which one it’ll be; body humming with heat and pleasure and so much bottled up energy just waiting to release, it’s starting to make his muscles tremble.

Above him, Link lets out a short, throaty laugh. “Love you too, baby,” he says, and the next time he fucks into Rhett in one long, smooth rolling motion, it feels like a little piece of Rhett’s soul dies and is reborn all at once.

“Oh god.” It’s about the only thing he can say when Link keeps rolling his hips like that, hitting just the right place to make Rhett’s breath hitch and his veins feel like they’ve been replaced with live wires; sparking and crackling with white-hot electricity he can’t control. “ _Link_ —”

“Yeah,” Link murmurs between panting breaths, using one hand to push his sweaty hair away from his forehead before he reaches down, wrapping those fingers around Rhett’s cock. “Yeah, c’mon.”

Rhett’s next groan feels like it’s ripped straight out of his chest when Link starts jerking him off like that, just as slow and restrained as the thrust of his hips.

It’s both too much and not enough, and when Rhett finally comes it hits him like a slow-rolling wave, pleasure building higher and higher until it crests and crashes down in the form of a full body tremor that leaves his legs shaking and abs contracting as he curls in on himself reflexively, trying to ride it out as Link keeps working him through it with tight, long strokes. 

“Fuck,” he gasps afterwards, heart pounding and limbs still a little shaky in the aftermath.

Link, sweaty and breathless, grins down at him with elated, smug satisfaction.

“There we go,” he says like that was the exact reaction he’d been waiting for, driving his hips forward one more time and staying there as he follows with a throaty moan, head dropped low between his shoulder blades and mouth falling open, eyes half-lidded as he gazes down at Rhett like he’s the only other thing that exists in that moment. Just the two of them, here and now. 

Rhett definitely knows the feeling.

He can’t even decide where to focus his own stare in return: the muscle definition in Link’s arms and shoulders; the wet pink of his mouth where he’s licked his lips; the deep blue of his eyes, normally such a strikingly cool tone, but holding nothing but warmth and fire at the moment. It’s like a visual overload to his already-overwhelmed senses, and if he were about twenty years younger, just that sight alone would have Rhett flipping Link over to immediately and enthusiastically return the favour.

Twenty minutes, he tells himself. He’ll do it as soon as he can feel all of his extremities again.

They’re both pretty limp and useless after that. Link automatically relaxes all his weight, dipping his head down to press his forehead to Rhett’s for a few long, drawn-out moments while they work to catch their breaths, before he pulls out slow and rolls over onto his back next to Rhett. He’s far enough away to let their overheated skin cool down, but the back of Link’s hand is still pressed up against Rhett’s in the empty space between them, making Rhett want to smile. Even apart, they can never seem to manage true separation. 

Eventually, Link stretches his arms up over his head, letting out a satisfied groan before he lets his head flop to the side, looking at Rhett and requesting, “Wet wipes?”

Rhett grunts and shifts onto one hip, pulling the package out from where it’s somehow ended up half-wedged underneath him.

“I feel like I need to sign a waiver the next time we do that,” he tells Link, taking one wipe for himself before handing the rest over. “Damn, Neal.”

Link accepts them with a smile, looking way too cute and pleased with himself considering their current topic of discussion. “Might not be a bad idea,” he agrees while they finish cleaning themselves up. “You _are_ getting older, after all.”

“I’m not too old to still beat you up,” Rhett says, sneaking one hand over Link’s stomach so he can dig his fingers into the ticklish spot on Link’s side.

Link, weirdo that he is, attempts to escape by rolling into Rhett rather than away, muttering an ‘ _ow’_ when he accidentally knocks his forehead into the bony part of Rhett’s shoulder.

“When’ve you ever beaten me up?” he wonders, briefly rubbing at the sore spot on his head as he looks up at Rhett. “I know you too well, man - you’re a lover, not a fighter. We both know that I’m the scrappy one in this relationship.”

Rhett laughs, leaning over to tuck their used wipes into the empty grocery bag that’s been functioning as today’s road trip garbage can. “Scrappy,” he repeats, laying back down and extending one arm out in invitation. “That’s one word for it.”

Link takes him up on the offer, tucking himself into the space Rhett’s created between his arm and torso. He hums in approval when Rhett immediately sinks one hand into the top of his sweaty hair. Petting, although Link would never in a million years let him call it that out loud.

“At least I haven’t yelled at any other drivers yet,” Link points out, nestling his cheek on Rhett’s bicep, and honestly, this far into their trip that may actually be something worth celebrating, Rhett thinks.

“Well, there’s always tomorrow,” he says solemnly, breaking out into more laughter when Link rolls his eyes and smacks him.


	8. Chapter 8

“So much salt water has gone up my nose,” Link declares, “my sinuses are gonna be clear for the next two years. I swear I can smell _time_ now, man. I could be a superhero, but the kind with only like one weirdly specific talent, y’know?”

They’re seated side by side in the damp sand, surfboards discarded at their feet as they watch the waves roll in. The afternoon sun is just starting to get too warm against the black of Rhett’s wetsuit so he’s gonna have to move into the shade soon, but at the moment he’s got no complaints.

“Who knows, maybe that did fix your weird lack of smell,” he offers with a shrug. “Either way, I gotta say I’m impressed, man. You were doin’ great till that last wave took you down.”

Dropping his head back, Link groans up at the sky, chagrined. “I wiped out so hard,” he says woefully, turning to look at Rhett. “Did it look cool at least?”

Rhett laughs, shifting one leg over so he can affectionately bump his foot into Link’s ankle. “Yeah man. It looked real cool.”

“Good.” Link seems satisfied enough with that, leaning back on his hands and digging his toes into the sand. “You should let me bury you later. I can turn you into a mermaid or an octopus or somethin’.”

“You’re the beach-sleeper,” Rhett counters, watching Link push together little mountains of sand and then crush them with the soles of his feet. “I should be burying you. Besides, your level of artistic talent is questionable at best. Am I actually gonna come out of this looking like a mermaid, or are you gonna turn me into some kind of crazy hybrid where my bottom half looks like a giant wiener?”

Link laughs, loud and delighted. “Well, now that you’ve given me the idea...”

“Stay away from the man with the sand wiener, kids!” Rhett plays into the joke with a grin. “Can you imagine - our first time here and we get banned from the beach for inappropriate sand sculptures?”

“They put us in beach jail and we have to call Chris and Jess to bail us out,” Link adds. “That’s a phone call that’s gonna go over well.”

“Innocently trying to make a sand mermaid and ending up getting arrested for public indecency instead?” Rhett muses. “That’s the Link Neal-iest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Shut up, man,” Link laughs, reaching over to push at Rhett’s shoulder.

When Rhett pushes him back it’s all downhill from there and they spend a frankly embarrassing amount of time tussling back and forth, snickering and slap-fighting until Rhett’s stomach starts growling and they call a lunch break truce.

Flushed and covered in sand, Link gets to his feet, wiping his hands off on his thighs. “Can you get my zipper?” he asks, turning around to give Rhett access to the back of his wetsuit.

It takes Rhett about three times as long to lumber back up to his own feet but once he does, he finds the small hidden zipper at the back of Link’s neck and starts tugging it down.

“Aw yeah, unpeel me like a banana,” Link says, shimmying his hips for added emphasis.

“ _What_?” Fingers fumbling, Rhett has to stop when Link’s only half unzipped, laughing too hard to continue. “Why you gotta make it so weirdly sexual, man?!”

“You like it.” Link cranes his neck, grinning back at him. “You like _me_ ,” he amends, and standing there, all blue eyes and wet hair and big, brilliant smile, how is Rhett _not_ supposed to be completely in love with him? That’s the better question.

“For reasons still unknown to me, yeah,” Rhett admits, half joking and yet entirely sincere at the same time. “God help me, I do.”

* * *

Their last night at Westport Union-Landing is spent walking the beach, working on their new song, and having one last campfire where they cook up a slightly bizarre menu of s’mores (Link’s idea) and beans (Rhett’s contribution, obviously).

“Well?” Rhett prompts, watching Link’s face closely after he’s taken his first bite.

Back when they’d vlogged about it, Link’s underwhelmed reaction had been immediately apparent. This time, Rhett can tell that he’s giving it the ol’ college try, wanting to like it for Rhett’s sake, but there’s still no hiding the way Link’s mouth wobbles downward then goes flat, like he wants to make a face but is fighting every instinct, trying to keep his expression neutral.

After a suspiciously long amount of chewing, Link finally reports, “It’s okay.”

“ _Okay_?” Rhett repeats, slightly incredulous. They’re _campfire beans_. That’s comfort in a bowl, right there. “Just okay?”

“It’s...very okay?” Link tries again, voice going up at the end so it comes out sounding like a question. Poking at his bowl, he spoons up a second, smaller bite. “See? Goin’ back for more. Yum.”

“How have you _ever_ successfully acted in anything we’ve done?” Rhett wonders out loud, chuckling in spite of himself. “Honestly, it’s okay if you don’t like it - pretending to like ‘em is just doing a disservice to the beans. They deserve to be respected, man.”

Frowning, Link blinks down at his bowl. “Sorry if I offended you,” he tells it politely before passing the whole thing off to Rhett.

Rhett’s happy enough to accept it, scraping the rest of Link’s beans onto the top of his own full bowl. “Link doesn’t like _birthday cake_ ,” he says by way of explanation, directing his comment down to the beans, “so his opinion clearly can’t be trusted.”

“No one should like birthday cake when pie is an option,” Link argues with a shake of his head. “Like suckin’ on a dried-out sponge. Except for-”

“Your nana’s pound cake,” Rhett finishes the thought for him. “It was a good one this year, too.”

Link snorts, busy rummaging through the plastic bag containing their s’mores supplies. “Really?” he says dryly, “I couldn’t tell from the way you ate like two thirds of it.”

“I’ll tell you exactly what was gonna happen,” Rhett says, pointing his spoon at Link accusingly. “You were gonna put it in the freezer, forget about it, then just throw it away in six months when it’s gone all freezer burnt. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“ _Tell me I’m wrong_ ,” Link mimics in an exaggerated voice, finally pulling a package of marshmallows free. After some struggling to tear the bag open, he gives up and just uses his teeth, ripping a hole in the top of the plastic.

“You’re not denying it.” Rhett grins, knocking his knee into Link’s before he takes another bite from his bowl.

“Such a pain in my ass,” Link mutters in response, clearly trying not to smile when he tosses a marshmallow in Rhett’s direction.

It hits his beard then lands in his bowl of beans, so Rhett scoops it up on his next bite. Food’s food, after all.

Next to him, Link scrunches his nose up. “How’s that taste?”

“Delicious,” Rhett says flatly, making Link laugh.

His eyes are still shining with humor, but now they’ve got a distinctly soft kind of fondness in them too when Link grabs a handful of the front of Rhett’s shirt, tugging him closer.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, plucking the bowl out of Rhett’s hands so he can set it aside. “Betcha I’ll like those beans more if I experience them secondhand.”

Chuckling, Rhett leans the rest of the way into Link’s space, tilting his head until their noses are brushing. “That could be a GMM episode. How well does the taste of a certain food transfer through kisses?”

“So you’re sayin’ I can write this off as a business expense?” Link raises both eyebrows jokingly, one hand sliding up the back of Rhett’s neck to tangle in his hair.

His mouth is so close, it’s getting kinda hard for Rhett to remember how to put a sentence together.

“Research,” he confirms, vaguely wondering when his voice got so husky. “Boopity boo-”

He never gets the chance to finish when Link cuts him off suddenly, closing the gap between them with a deep, smiling kiss.

* * *

It’s foggy when they wake up the next morning.

The calm stillness of the early hour seems to seep into them by osmosis or something, leaving them content to move around the back of the van slowly and quietly.

Yawning, they fix their hair and pull on sweatpants, and when Link steals one of Rhett’s t-shirts to pull over his head, Rhett can’t help but push him back down onto the mattress, working one hand up under the soft fabric and the other down beneath the elastic of Link’s sweats as they lose an undeterminable amount of time to kisses, touches and broken-off groans.

Link makes coffee for them afterwards, craning his neck to share a warm, lazy kiss with Rhett when Rhett squeezes by him to grab the cream out of their mini fridge.

It’s unusually cool outside but they throw the back doors open anyway, settling on the edge of the mattress with their feet hanging out, cups of coffee in hand and duvet wrapped around both their shoulders to ward off the chill.

Off the edge of the bluff, the waves are rolling into the shoreline in big, arching swoops; white-capped and noisy as they crash into the collection of rocks below.

Despite the water’s ferocity, it feels oddly peaceful, Rhett thinks. Nature at its most beautiful and powerful, and he feels privileged just to be sitting here, able to see it. Humbling, is what it is.

Neither of them say anything for a long time - happy just to drink their coffees while watching the mesmerizing churn of the water - until Link sets his empty mug down and puts words to what they’ve both been thinking.

“Wow,” he says faintly.

“Yeah,” Rhett agrees, equally soft, like talking too loud might somehow shatter the moment.

“Hey Rhett?”

He turns his head at his name but Link is still looking straight ahead, eyes resting out over the expanse of the ocean and Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and Rhett feels the same overwhelming swell of affection, pride and possessiveness he always does whenever he catches Link in profile like that. A sudden, visceral reminder of _this guy picked me_.

“I’m really glad we did this,” Link finishes after a moment. There’s a hint of thickness in his tone that probably wouldn’t be detectable to anyone else, but Rhett knows that voice just as well as his own - can track every little waver and nuance without even having to try - so he hears it. Feels it. Gets it.

Under the weight of the duvet, Link shifts against him subtly, bumping his thigh and shoulder into Rhett’s and keeping them there; a warm and solid line against Rhett’s side.

It feels like that warmth travels all the way through Rhett from the outside in, coming to unfurl slow and comfortable in his stomach and chest as he smiles, letting his gaze settle back out across the ocean-lined horizon. So much ahead of them; miles and miles of endless deep blue.

The morning sun has just started to peek its way through the overcast, slate-grey sky, the breeze off the water is cool against his face, and the best kind of company he could ask for is seated right at his side.

Rhett’s never felt quite so lucky.

“Yeah,” he agrees, voice rough as he leans his shoulder into Link’s until they’re fully pressed together, arm to arm and hip to hip, supporting each other’s weight, and there’s probably a metaphor in there somewhere but at the moment Rhett’s too content to go hunting it down. “Me too, buddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once the trip is over, Pokey’s new home becomes the windowsill in their office and every once in a while one of them will catch the other standing there by the window, on their way to go do something before getting distracted by the sight of the cactus so they just kind of end up paused there, smiling off into space because memories :)


End file.
